Revenge is sweet, but donuts are sweeter
by Floopygirl
Summary: SPOILERS FOR THREADS. Um, that's probably all I can say here wout spoiling people. It's surreal, and has donuts...


Rating: 12, I think. For using the dreaded sex word, gasp

Spoilers: Threads

Pairings: Jack/Kerry, Jack/Sam

Disclaimer: not mine

Summary: Kerry doesn't take her breakup with Jack well.

A/N: Lynn, this is for you. I know it's not exactly what you wanted, and is in fact quite surreal, but I have trouble as seeing Kerry as evil. My bad. I would love feedback for this, just to know if people think it's funny or insane or just plain silly.

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Breaking up with Jack, or Brigadier General O'Neill as she later tried to think of him, was one of the hardest things she'd had to do in a while. 

It shouldn't have been that hard. They both knew she was only going to be in town for a short while and that their affair would have to have a short lifespan. But he was funny and surprisingly astute, and his whole relaxed attitude to life was about a million miles away from anything she'd encountered back in Washington. Maybe that was why she was so attracted to him – she always liked to try out the new toys. Problem was, her attraction for him didn't wear out after his novelty value did, and suddenly she'd started having these sweet little fantasies about using her frequent flyer miles to visit him on weekends, and spending vacations in a little cabin in Minnesota where the fish grew this big.

So she'd fooled herself into thinking that her feelings might be mutual. After all, she was smart, pretty, had cultivated a demeanour of niceness that could fool even the best. They got along great, and the sex was... she wanted to say mind-blowing, but there were too many clichés in the world. Pretty damn hot, certainly. So why couldn't they make things work in the long-term?

She'd muddled along happily, living in her little fantasy land, until one sunny afternoon when Jack had insisted on doing barbeque for lunch and she'd walked outside to find him talking with one Lt Col Samantha Carter. Except talking wasn't really the right word: from their strained posture and the accusing looks they were sending each other, she'd realised that she was witnessing some deep conversation that almost entirely consisted of sub-text. So she'd smiled and put on a territorial act – just enough to warn Colonel Carter that he was _her_ man – while in her mind, all the nagging little things about him that she'd tried to ignore suddenly slotted together to give her the bigger picture. Why he wouldn't cuddle after sex but immediately rolled away, why he'd never talk about his former team... it all made sense, in a way that she found rather horrible. So she'd smiled and chatted, and hadn't said anything when Jack returned to base. It had all made sense.

Deciding to break up with him was hard, but not as hard as it might have been. She had too much pride and self-respect to settle for being a substitute for another woman, even to a man who she suspected she was beginning to have painfully strong feelings for. So she decided to throw him a bone for all the good times they'd had together, and to try and open his eyes to what he could have. She knew herself well enough to know that her motivation wasn't niceness – navigating the treacherous minefields of DC politics soon eroded all the sweetness from anyone's soul – or maybe it was. She certainly couldn't think of any other motivation. Either way, if it worked out for him, great; if it didn't, it would be some small consolation for her to know that he was in as much pain as she was.

Once she'd done the deed, that should have been it. She knew all about break-ups: you avoid the other person until you've moved on, and then you make sure that next time you run into them you're wearing a fabulous dress and have a fabulous man on your arm. Easy. Except this time, the breakup was painful, no matter that she'd initiated their split. It hurt, surprisingly, and she missed the quiet times they'd had together, curled up on the couch or in his bed, and all the soft kisses and the passionate love-making. So, against her better judgement, she decided to go to Jacob Carter's funeral and see if there were any signs that things had changed. Maybe, just maybe Carter would show up on her fiancé's arm, and she would be able to make a last ditch effort to get Jack back.

Her plan was a dismal failure. The fiancé wasn't in sight. Throughout the ceremony she watched as Jack hovered just a step behind Lt Col Carter, wordlessly offering his support, and she saw Carter lean into the hand he placed onto her shoulder. The pain Kerry felt overwhelmed her, and she thought that maybe she had been in love after all.

After the ceremony she drove back to her empty hotel suite, stopping on the way to pick up a twelve-pack of beer and a box of twelve Krispy Kremes: nothing like comfort food for the broken-hearted. Back in her room she sat on her bed with a donut in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, trying to choose between them. Finally she put the donut away and opened the beer, chugging it back. If she was going to lose her figure from binging, she might as well get pleasantly tipsy as well.

Another four bottles of beer later she realised that she wasn't thinking clearly, but was drunk enough not to care. Ignoring the part of herself which was horrified by the thought of driving while over the limit, she picked up her box of donuts and took it to her car. She pulled up outside his house and felt torn between upset and relief that his truck was in the driveway, not sure whether or not she'd wanted him to be home. And she suddenly realised that she didn't know what to do now that she was parked there. Her hurt had transmuted into anger, but the anger was fuzzy-headed and hadn't thought things through properly. Something like that, anyway.

Deciding it was ridiculous to sit in her car outside his house like some demented stalker, she got out, carrying the box of donuts under one arm. She hovered in his driveway, staring at his truck and the lights shining from his windows. Took a donut out of the box and bit into it.

It was lemon curd and she made a face, throwing it away in disgust. It hit the truck, and a wave of satisfaction rushed through her at the sound of it squishing against the metal and the sight of yellow filling spraying through the air in thick, gelatinous droplets. She threw another one at the truck, harder, but this time the alarm went off. She cursed to herself: how typical of a man not to bother with locking his house doors but to care about vehicle security.

The back door opened and Teal'c, the jaffa, peered out. He didn't say anything to her, or bother leaving the house, but called out for O'Neill. She threw another two donuts at the truck while she waited, knowing it was petty, but annoyed that he apparently didn't consider her to be a threat.

Then Jack walked out of the house and the door closed. She aimed the next donut at him but missed – because of all the beer, no doubt. He didn't flinch, but came closer and paused. She threw another donut at the truck, trying to prove some kind of a point.

"Are you okay?" His words were stupid, she found herself thinking, and she started giggling at him for asking such a stupid question. Because she wasn't okay, of course she wasn't, standing outside her ex's house, throwing pastries at him.

"Can I have a donut?" The question caught her by surprise and she passed the box to him without thinking, then flinching in fear of retaliation. Instead he bit into it, apparently savouring the taste.

She relaxed and took one herself, nibbling on its edges. It was sweet and delicious, but her appetite was long gone. She watched him covertly as he finished the pastry and brushed his hands free of the icing sugar.

"Why are you doing this?" She was taken by surprise again, and she wondered if the alcohol had seeped into her head through the roof of her mouth and dissolved her brain cells. Hopefully not.

"For revenge." He stared at her, face expressionless. "Revenge is sweet," she added, hoping that simple phrase would explain everything.

He kept staring. "But donuts are sweeter," he replied. The words didn't make any sense to her and she responded by throwing hers at him, watching as it struck him in the chest and raspberry jelly oozed out. His expression was hilarious as he filled the air with curses, but she no longer felt like laughing, and placed the box on the ground by her feet.

She watched regretfully as he wiped at his front. "I'm sorry."

"I damn well hope so," he muttered. Suddenly she started laughing, and he was laughing with her, and tears started coming out of her eyes, only she wasn't laughing anymore.

"I should go."

He watched her carefully. "Will you be alright?"

She nodded. "Will you call me a cab?"

He agreed, pulling out a cell phone from his pocket and speaking into it briefly. "It'll be here in five or ten minutes."

She nodded again, pushing her hands into her pockets for warmth. "You don't have to wait with me."

"That's okay. Friends, remember?"

Friends didn't exactly bombard each other with donuts. Or sometimes they did, but like this. "Friends."

They stood together in silence, in the dark. "So, did you have any luck with Colonel Carter?" Her phrasing was awkward, but five bottles of beer were such a perfect excuse.

He tensed up, staring into the distance. "She broke up with her fiancé." The satisfaction in his voice was evident.

"And?" She didn't really want to hear all the gory details, but felt as though she should ask.

He shrugged. "That's all for now. It's enough."

"I see." And she did. Dimly. And maybe that would be enough for her to start the whole moving on process.

Her cab pulled up by the side of the road, and she turned to him. "I'll be heading back to DC soon."

"Yes."

She picked up the box of donuts off the ground and offered them to him. "Will you take these? I think I've had

enough cake for one evening."

"Donuts aren't cake! They're another form of sweet goodness altogether." The humour was forced, but she appreciated it nonetheless. She rolled her eyes as he took the box from her

"Of course. Sorry." She started walking to the cab, and then turned back. "And, thank you."

He stared after her. "For what?"

She shrugged, wishing she'd thought of something before saying it. "I don't know. For making me barbeque, and for showing me the galaxy, sort of. For not throwing that donut at me."

He tipped his head. "You're welcome."

She stepped into the cab and gave the driver her address, then licked the sugar off her fingers. As revenge went, it had been pretty shoddy, and she hadn't come out with what she'd wanted, whatever that was. Still, she'd always treasure the memory of his face as he wiped raspberry jelly from his shirt.


End file.
